A Wand Crafter's Embrace
by youlittledevil
Summary: Ollivander is visited by an unlikely lover one day who wants more than just a wand. Slight spoiler in relation to Neville Longbottom's past. Mature content. ONE-SHOT.


The wand of dragon heart-string twirled in my fingers. I looked at it through my monocle. _Perfect _I thought to myself, setting the want I had just crafted in its box. The wand would make a wonderful tool for a wizard.

The bell on my shop's door dinged. "You. I need a wand." A young witch demanded. Her face was hidden by her cloak, but her wild curly hair stuck out from the sides.

"Morning Madame. I'm Ollivander, wand crafter. But I'm sure you know that," I chuckled.

"I truly don't care." She stared down at me.

She approached my desk, looking down on me.

"I'm looking for a wand- a powerful wand."

"Well, I must say that's quite a request, but the wand chooses the wizard or witch, in your case."

She pulled her cloak from her head. She had fierce eyes and a sharp jawline. I instantly recognized her, but I didn't know why. Her eyes narrowed and she drew her hand from her robe to reveal a tattered and intensely broken wand.

"My… How did this happen?" I noticed the wand was not of my make. _That's why it broke, _I thought.

I took the wand in my hand. It felt charred and cold. "Dark magic…" I muttered.

The wand was lined with splinters, black ash crawling up the wood.

"Tell me, how did you get into such a brawl?"

"That is none of your concern!" Her eyes lit up with fury, but I sensed fear in her voice.

I cleared my throat, startled, "I didn't mean to offend you Ms. … I didn't happen to catch your name."

"Please," her face softened, "a new wand is all I desire."

She must be involved with them. There is no other excuse. "Are you involved with Deatheaters?"

"My wand, filth."

"You shouldn't be involved with them. Such a beautiful woman… So young." My eyes examined her face, her dark curls draping over her shoulder, messy yet somehow elegant. I followed her clavicle down to her breasts, perched and slightly showing at the neckline of her black dress.

"Excuse me?" her voice sounded offended but her body language told me different. The witch couldn't have been older than twenty-five, too young for a man of my age, but her body called to me. Maybe it was the firewhiskey impairing my judgment, but every part of me wanted her.

"Fine wand you had here. Mahogany, unicorn hair."

"Seven inches." She leaned onto my desk, staring me straight in the eyes.

My heart began to race. "Yes, yes. A mighty fine wand." I averted my eyes from the curves of her breasts bulging from her dress.

"I love how thick it is. I feel as though it has more power. Girth is very important… in wands. Although I do prefer more than seven inches."

I struggled to form words, but there was no blood in my head. The woman leaned closer.

"It's been so long since I've had a new wand."

"I bet it has." I tried to stay professional, but I could feel her breath.

"You can't be satisfied with just one wand. You have to explore, see what other wands feel like."

"This wand has taken a lot of damage." I tried to change the subject, but she was leaning so close to me, I could smell her musky perfume.

"I'm not exactly gentle." She grabbed the collar of my robe, forcing her mouth onto mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting of heavy pipe smoke and sweet butterbeer. I let her tongue search my mouth, caressing my tongue. Almost all of my body was limp, except for the spot where my pants grew tight. She pulled away, pushing me into my chair as she walked around the desk to mount me, the chair squeaking in protest. I heard the portrait of my mother on my desk gasp, but the witch quickly slapped it off the table.

She pulled at my trousers, wildly kissing down my neck. I hesitated, never having had an encounter like this before. She took me out of my pants roughly and began to move.

"No knickers." I thought.

She moved up and down, using the back of the chair for support. I studied her face, head tilted back in pleasure. She moaned out and giggled, "Mr. Ollivander, I think we have reached a deal on the wand?"

"Yes, dear." I could barely speak. I came but not once did she give me a break. After my third time, she cried out in pleasure. She collapsed against me, and then got up.

"My wand, filth." Her face turned to stone, but sweat lined her brow. Her hair was matted to her forehead.

I stumbled to my feet, barely making to the shelf where the wands of Dragon heartstring were stacked.

"Eleven inches. Walnut. Dragon heartstring." I handed her the wand. She held it in her hands, a grin spreading across her face.

"It will do."

"Care to test it? You do know what I always say… The wand picks-"

"-the wizard. I know. _Incendio!_" she aimed her spell at a stack of _Daily Prophets_ I had been meaning to read.

"Decent." She looked to me. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"The pleasure was all mine. Will I be seeing you again?"

"I'm sure you will." She smirked and walked towards the door.

"May I please have your name, madam?"

"You'll know soon enough." She pulled her cloak over her head and walked out the door.

I was so caught up in her leaving that I had forgotten about the flaming papers in the corner. I reached for my wand.

"_Aguamenti!__" I yelled. The flames were extinguished by a stream of water. I walked over to the charred remains of the __Daily Prophet__. _

_I had been looking forward to reading the results from the Appleby Arrows latest match. Part of the paper had survived the fire. I reached for it, but stopped short. Her face sneered back at me, with a headline that sent a sick chill through my body, resting in the pit of my stomach._

_**He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named Supporter Bellatrix Lestrange Captures and Tortures Aurors Alice and Frank Longbottom**_


End file.
